Brinks In Time:The Legend of Valendri's Relic

by Tom Rogal

  They finally flew out, landing on some hard objects, but they were loose enough that it broke their fall.

  “Wow, what a ride!”

  Lindaris stood up while the other three were still trying to figure out where they were. The room wasn’t very large and was empty except for the items they landed on.

  Biverin commented, “You can keep your ride. I’ll walk next time, thank you. Where are we? What did we land on?”

  Joakon’s vision finally became clear and he panicked, “Bones! Ah!”

  The other three mages rushed out scared as they realized that they landed on a large pile of bones. The lighting was poor, but it looked like they mostly belonged to animals. There were some traces of other bones, though, unique to the elves and the Ettui. Lindaris chuckled as they all went by him.

  “Bones never hurt anyone! Apparently we landed in a room meant to store their wastes. It’s the only thing here. Gerran, you got any idea how deep we are?”

  Gerran closed his eyes and said, “The power of the Relic is much closer, but it is still further below.”

  “And how about the others?” asked Biverin.

  Gerran quieted his mind. He tried reaching out to them, but he couldn’t see or feel them. That could mean anything. Worst case scenario was that their paths led to deadlier ends. Best case, perhaps the magic of this mountain was so powerful that it was blocking them from communicating.

  Lindaris finally said, “Okay, well, we best continue heading toward the Relic.”

  “And who named you the leader?”

  Lindaris was taken aback. Did he really just challenge him? Biverin stood, defiant as he stared at the others.

  “What's that supposed to mean?”

  Biverin winced before explaining, “I am the eldest between us and until we regroup with Neeza, I think I should be making the decisions. I have much more experience than any of us. I may not be the bravest, but I have the most life knowledge.”

  “I don’t understand. Why can’t we all just work together?” asked Joakon.

  Biverin clarified, “Oh, we will work together, but when you have the threats we are facing here, we need someone who can make a decision calmly and not rush into something because they are bored. I’m not saying I want to replace Neeza, but until we find him, we need someone to guide us. I believe that should be me.”

  Lindaris was surprised and angered by Biverin questioning him. He knew their disdain for each other was known by the other students. He had called the farmer mage many a name on the boat trip alone. But things have changed since then. He was more mature now.

  Lindaris said, “Listen, farm boy. I’m taking command because I’m in the School of Black Magic. We are born leaders, and if we run into one of these threats, I can blow them up. You won’t find weeds inside the mountain here. Even these other guys look up to me. Joakon? Gerran?”

  Both mages remained silent. It was obvious that neither one wanted to choose who was leading and who wasn’t. They just wanted to survive.

  Gerran finally said, “I think I speak for Joakon. The Relic is what is important. We just want to get there and wait for Neeza. I can show you the way. How we get there doesn’t matter too much.”

  Biverin agreed, “He’s right. We should just follow him for now. He can feel the full strength of its power.”

  Gerran began to move forward followed by Biverin and Joakon. Lindaris finally started going, but very hesitant. This wasn’t over, no matter how much Biverin tried to rectify the situation. His true feelings were out there. He was going to show him and the others that he had what it took to be a leader.

  As they exited out of the room, Joakon and Gerran were forced to cast light spells because it was nearly pitch black. At least the waste room was lit from an air pocket cut through the ceiling. The hallways they were walking down were numerous, as were the rooms they were passing. Old furniture was still in pretty good shape considering the years that they laid idle.

  Biverin commented, “These must be old living quarters. Looks like there were numerous beds placed here.”

  Lindaris added, “Elves rarely sleep, so why would they need beds?”

  Biverin flash him an annoyed looked, but said nothing as they moved on. The rooms were all situated the same, supporting the mage farmer’s observation. These were some type of resting quarters. The rooms must be the barracks or the closest elvish equivalent of one. They obviously hadn’t been used in years. Many skeletons were spread throughout the rooms.

  Gerran said, “The final battle between the Ettui must have gone all the way into here. Amazing how far they had gotten. Between the traps, the outer defenses the elves must have had, the death toll for the Ettui must have been astronomical!”

  Lindaris didn’t really care much about the history of the place. What he was worried about was the random clicking sounds he heard from time to time. He noticed it ever since they entered the barracks. The others were too involved in the surroundings to even make mention of it. As they left the barracks, they exited into a large room with the ceiling being at least 200 feet high. Old elven sculptures were seen all around the walls and structures. The most impressive was on the northern wall located a hundred feet up it. It showed an elvish deity of some kind. It was dressed in armor with seven arrows on one hand and wheat in the other.

  “How did they get it so high?”

  Gerran answered, “Elves have their means. Many that we don’t understand. I have heard that they . . .”

  Biverin suddenly interrupted, “Do you hear something?”

  Everyone was quiet. Lindaris had certainly heard it. Maybe he underestimated his rival for leadership here. Maybe he was just as observant as he was. At first they heard nothing. Joakon wanted to speak, but Biverin hushed him. That was when they heard the clicking sound. They all were aware of it now.

  “What in Gyyerlith was that?” asked Joakon.

  Gerran waited until the clicking sound was heard again, “I don’t know. It sounds like its coming from the south over there based off the echoes. Sounds almost like a . . .”

  Biverin and Lindaris said together, “An insect.”

  That would make some sense. Insects could survive under even the most traverse conditions. The Garchai wouldn’t be a direct threat to them as they seemed to have other tastes. There was one thing that troubled Lindaris, which Biverin caught onto almost as quickly as he did.

  “That sounds very big to be an insect. I’ve encountered some nasty ones in my farming, but I have never heard something like that before.”

  And worse enough for them, the clicking was getting louder and closer.

  Gerran commented, “We should move. It’s coming from the south, so let’s head north. I would rather not find out what it is.”

  If there was one thing they could all agree on, that was it. They all ran over as fast as they could to a building that still had its door intact. When they entered, they all went silent again, listening. To be safe, each mage cancelled their light spells, opting to sit in pitch darkness. After a few seconds, the clicking could be heard much louder. Only now, they also heard a shuffling sound as well.

  Gerran whispered, “It's outside.”

  Lindaris shushed him, but it was too late as whatever was outside scurried right up to the door. It was incredibly fast! It had taken mere seconds for it to get to where they were. A deafly silence ensued as Lindaris and the others were holding their breaths. It seemed like they were standing mute for ages.

  Joakon was getting anxious. Biverin moved silently over to calm him down, casting the only spell he remembered from the School of Geomancy. He used it to calm his farm animals down, so he saw no reason it wouldn't work on one of their own. The relaxed reaction on Joakon's face proved it worked. Good thing, too, because the shuffling and clicking were loud. Every few seconds it would rub against the door. Although he hadn’t seen much of it, Biverin knew what it was trying to do. It was trying to coax them into making some noise. It knew they were there, but couldn
’t pinpoint them. Midenbeasts were known to do the same. After a few more minutes, the creature seemed to scamper off as the clicking became softer, and the shuffling was no longer audible.

  All the mages gave a sigh of relief, easing their tense bodies from the stress they just encountered.

  Gerran commented, “That was close.”

  Joakon said, “Thanks, Biverin. If you didn’t settle me down, I think I would have surely cracked.”

  Lindaris grunted. Just a simple act and Biverin was able to garner so much damn support. He believed that Gerran really supported him, but if Biverin was able to win him over, then who’d he be left with? He had to do something to get these two on his side.

  “For the moment, it looks like whatever that thing was is gone. Let’s get moving toward the Relic. Go on, Gerran. Lead the way.”

  Gerran nodded and began to walk through the building. The room appeared to be a church of some kind, although he had never seen elves have a structure dedicated to their deities. The world was their church. They would worship them in the middle of a dirt road if they felt compelled.

  “This place is creepy,” added Biverin.

  Again, Lindaris had to agree with his rival for power. The statues along the walls and the shadows they cast from their light spells made them look like demons rather than the religious figures they portrayed.

  “Guys, there’s a passage behind this altar. Leads to another structure it seems.”

  Gerran led the way into the new building. It was less pleasant and even more frightful than the church, but for other reasons. The room had many rusted, but sharp tools lying on stone tables and benches. The floor was littered with ancient red splotches all over the floor. One thing was for certain, it wasn’t paint.

  Gerran was about to tell them about the room, but Biverin said, “No worries. I think we know what happened in here. Must have been won by the Ettui and the elves captured were tortured to death.”

  Part of that was probably true, but Lindaris saw more than that. The Ettui were savages, this much was true, but there was still some elf in them from what he heard. They wouldn’t ravage their victim on the floor unless they were starved. They would rather torture, then like an elf obsessed with cleanliness, do their consuming on a table of sorts. Whatever caused these bloodstains, it wasn’t the Ettui.

  They moved through a few more rooms littered with bones and weapons. Strange, of all the dead remains they have seen, not one of the skulls looked like they belonged to an Ettui. He found it hard to believe that a hard battle was fought here and not one of them was killed.

  “This isn’t good.”

  Gerran stopped and looked forward, disappointed. Ahead of them were three paths. As far as he could tell, there were no telltale marks like in the bridge room.

  Biverin asked, “Is the power of the Relic stronger down either of them?”

  “Not that I can feel. It seems the same in either direction.”

  He was waiting for his chance and now he had it. Time to prove to Biverin and the others that he knew how to make the right decision.

  “We should take the right most path.”

  Biverin looked at Lindaris curiously, folding his arms, “And why is that?”

  Lindaris continued, “Judging by the way we fell, it was leading us toward the edge of the mountain. Gerran eve said it must be toward the center when we were outside. So, the path to the right is the most logical place to go.”

  “Charming theory. But the elves are cleverer than they are logical. They would be expecting the simple minded to take the obvious route. I suggest we take the left route. Much like the bridge room, it probably takes us further away before it takes us closer,” analyzed Biverin.

  His calm nature was beginning to annoy Lindaris. He didn’t know what he was talking about. The bridge room was designed to confuse the enemy. This was their stronghold. They would have wanted the quickest routes to get to the desired destination. Why would they want trickery in their own stronghold?

  “You know I’m right, Gerran. Go ahead and check it out.”

  Biverin signaled for him to not go, but Gerran went anyway. Lindaris scared the map-smart Gerran plenty. All members of the Black Magic School did for that matter. They usually had very short tempers, which when it came to military service, were usually given the glorified life because they were the bread and butter of a strong mage attack. Anyone could fight, but the mages that trained in that school were considered the elite. Being so young, he had hoped their representative would be different. Yet, it appeared as if the lifestyle of the Black Mage had already corrupted him. Oh well, what could go wrong? He would walk down the path a short while and then be able to decide whether it’s the right way or not.

  As he walked under the arch, he could have sworn he felt a heavy breeze. He stopped to fire his light spell out toward the hall. It looked pretty straightforward at least up to the point where the spell died. Maybe Lindaris was right. He was agreeing with Biverin, but based off what he saw there wasn’t any reason it would change course. He took a couple more steps in.

  Suddenly, a stone block jutted from the floor, blocking Gerran into the path.

  Biverin yelled, “Gerran!”

  They tried pounding on the stone, but they could hear nothing on the other side. Lindaris was just as surprised.

  Biverin turned to him angrily and said, “Seems you have chosen poorly. Let’s go my way and pray that the path meets up with the one Gerran is stuck on.”

  Lindaris, trying to cover for his mistake, suggested, “Why aren’t we trying to blast him out of there? Get out of the way. Firammii morza!”

  Biverin yelled, “Wait! Don’t . . .”

  The fireball ricocheted off the hidden door and nearly hit them. The spell negated after hitting the ceiling, causing rubble to fall over them. Why didn’t it work? It was just stone! It always exploded when he cast the spell on rocks at home.

  “The wall is protected by an elvish magic! You know what your problem is? You think everything can be solved by destroying it. Some things in this world can’t be answered with a fireball or an ice spell. Some things require more knowledge and reasoning, which at this point you lack both!”

  Biverin would have continued, but he grimaced and grabbed his side. Joakon rushed to him for support.

  “Are you okay? You’re grabbing that same side you injured a couple days ago. It should be somewhat healed by now.”

  Should be. Lindaris was able to figure it out, though. He was more injured than he was leading everyone to believe; maybe even seriously injured. Instead, he opted to stay mum. Biverin looked at both of them.

  “I’m fine. Let’s just go down the left path and see what happens.”

  Joakon nodded and took the lead. Lindaris walked up to the farmer mage, a blank stare on his face.

  Biverin said, “I can see it on your face. Thank you for not telling Joakon. He already has too much on his mind.”

  “If you don’t take it easy, you’re not going to make it. The wood punctured your lung, didn’t it? You wouldn’t be wheezing like you are if it didn’t.”

  Biverin replied, “I’m not a doctor, but I do believe so. Nothing we can do for it here. Let’s get to the Relic and then get home so I might be able to make it home for treatment.”

  He began to join Joakon, who was waiting at the path’s entrance. Lindaris stood still a while longer. Maybe he was taking this Biverin hate too strong. After all, the man could very well be dying in front of him. If the lung was punctured as seriously as he believed, than Mount Hrithgorn might be claiming another life. He didn’t want that to happen. He didn’t care much for Biverin, but he didn’t want him to die either. He even respected him more knowing that he was giving everything for the success of the mission. Lindaris finally reunited with the group.

  Joakon had the lead as they turned left for most of the way. But just when it appeared they reached a dead end, the path made a sharp turn right . . . toward the center of the mountain. I’l
l be damned, Lindaris thought. He was right this whole time.

  At the end of the hall they entered what looked to be former quarters for blacksmiths and clothiers. The ceiling was elevated, or rather hacked off to make it larger. More disturbing was most of the blacksmith pits were still burning with hot coals and a few torches were still lit. Joakon negated his spell.

  “I don’t like the looks of this,” commented Joakon.

  Neither did Lindaris and Biverin. What this proved to them was that this mountain was certainly occupied by someone, and they had a pretty good idea by whom. Just the size of the weapons and tools lying around were a dead giveaway.

  Lindaris suggested, “We should go. Go now.”

  Before they could move, however, a familiar clicking sound was heard. It was scurrying closer. The shadows cast by the torchlight and blacksmith pits gave eerie profiles across the walls. It was their first glimpse of the creature: Its deranged shadow spilled across the wall. It looked to have at least twelve legs and a head, but they could tell nothing else from the silhouette.

  They began to wonder how it could have followed them without them hearing it. Then again, there were probably hundreds of secret passages. The creature didn’t move for a long time, just as the mages hadn’t. Lindaris readied his spell. If it came toward him, he would be prepared to blast it to oblivion. The creature, like before, instead turned around. The mages didn’t ease up until the shadow was completely off the wall.

  Lindaris said, “That thing is beginning to annoy me. Wish it would just go away.”

  “We’re probably the freshest food it’s seen in years. Think it’s going to let us off that easy?” commented Biverin.

  “If it can even see us. Nothing seems to have eyes in this place.”

  The attack happened so fast, that the only warning they had was the shadow rapidly reappearing on the wall. Going off the clicking and shuffling noises were not enough. It pounced toward Biverin, who was just able to move out of the way.